Good fortune is with me. The 70 cookies I carried in my gut, they are all out, and all is good. Gracias Dios. But this is not time for celebrating. Delia, the new lady, was not so lucky. She is sick. I know what it means, all of us who have done this work for a while know. Game over. I do not have the heart to tell her the truth. A lie can be mercy.

"Shh...Tranquila." I tell her, pitching my voice in the way I do with Sophia, when she is upset or afraid. The first is often, the second very rare where mi hermana is concerned. I miss her. I take Delia from the bathroom, a cool cloth in my hand. She is sweating, and is running a fever. The burst pellet is poisioning her.

As we come into the room, I spare Ramiro a glance. He is watching us, waiting for Delia to die. He is not so smart, but he has good instincts. Like an animal, he can smell out fear and weakness, use it. He uses us, and we let him, because we know no other way. I do now, I remind myself, but it is not so easy to remember. I felt so sure and strong when I was in the car with Alvaro, but with Ramiro's dark eyes on me, my heart pounds, and my throat wants to close.

I force myself to think of Delia, and the lie comes easy. When did lies start to come so easy? "You'll be okay when they're all out."

"You felt like this too?"

I nod. "For a little while. But I'm fine now, see?"

"Si. I did this for my son." I wipe her brow as I listen. Does he know how much his mother loves him, and what that love will cost?

"Yeah?" I want her to keep talking, so she will not think of the pain.

"To get him out of jail. His wife gave up on him. He's a good boy. He just needs another chance." She does not say any more, doubling over in pain. I feel so helpless. I am no doctor, what can I do?

"Ana," Ramiro's announces, "you travel again in two months."

It would be easy to not say anything, to forget my plans. "Fuerte, mi hija, fuerte," Delia whispers. I look into her dying face, and I know I can not keep doing this. The next time, it might be me, I might pay too high a price.

The flowers Alvaro give me are on the dresser, and I walk over to them, touch them. I remember my dream, working with flowers on my desk. I am more than this, if I let myself be. Yo sé.

"No Ramiro. This is my last run."

"Oh, you decide now?" His voice is dangerous, his eyes more. He is like a snake, ready to strike, but I will not be a mouse!

"I have the money to help my sister," I try to explain.

"But you haven't been paid yet." Is voice is oily, like he thinks something is funny, and this worries even more than before.

"Yeah, I gave you all 70 cookies," I remind him. I want to scream this at him, but all that will earn me is a slap.

"But you haven't been paid." I had not thought that he would hold the money from me, and now realize this was stupid. I should have been taken my money, then told him.

I will try another way. "You don't need me. You have lots of girls."

"But not everyone can bluff like you. Those big innocent eyes. Huh?" He reaches out to touch my face, and I slap it away. His touch makes me feel dirty. "People believe your crap."

"I want out." I will not give that up.

"What matters is what I want!" He grabs my head with both hands, his face close. His breath smells muy mal, and I feel very afraid. He could do anything he wants, and all Delia could do is watch. I can not show him fear. He would like that too much. "I want to keep your money from this trip-you'll get it next time."

"You can't keep me here." It is a bluff, and he knows it.

"Hmm?" He let's my head go. "Where will you go without this?" Then he shows me my passport. My heart sinks, and I lunge for it, but like I knew would happen, he keeps it from me. Then the pig shoves it down into his pants. "Come get it."

A sense of helplessness and anger fills my chest, until I think it will burst. I look to Delia, who is crying on the bed, trying not to make much noise, or Ramiro might notice her. Smirking, the pig leaves the room, with my passport in his pants. I clench my fists, and beat them against my legs. Once, twice, again and again. A sob burns my throat, but I hold it back. I am trapped. ¡Soy atrapado como un animal!

I whirl around, glaring at the cookies. He would sell his soul for these pellets, already has. He sees money when he looks at these, and all but drools. Hmph! He would do anything for them.

Anything? Would he give a passport and thousand dollars for them? The thought is new, and I look at the goods with new eyes.

I grab two cookes, run to my coat, stuff my ticket to freedom in the inside jacket. Delia is frozen on the bed, half lying down. I stop, and look at her. I can't leave her...I can't...I close my eyes.

Sophia's sweet face comes to me, mi casa, kissed by the sun. My parents, the way they still love each other after all these years. My office with flowers, and a nice view also. Torn, I open my eyes.

"Go, mi hija. Ahora," she murmurs, half gone. She's going to die, no matter what I do. Why should I stay for something I can't change?

A tear slides down a my cheek as I kiss her hot brow. I run from the room. If I look back, I will stay. Then I am someone else as I leave the hotel. There is no money for taxi, but in my daydream, it is because I forgot my wallet at home. Thank God I have change in my purse for a bus. I hurry along to the bus stop, keeping to the shadows. I have no reason to be afraid, it is because I am playing a game.

The bus comes a bit later, and I get on, give the change. It is late, and there is only a handful of people on the bus with me. I choose a seat up front. I take out the picture from the magazine, draw strength from it. Daydreams can only last so long, and by now Ramiro has to know I am gone, the cookies with me. Alvaro's number is in my pocket, I could call him. Alvaro could help. I should call him. Yes, I will...no. At least, not yet. I will wait a little while longer.

Out the window, I see we are passing a church. On impulse, I push the buzzer, and get off. I read the sign: St. Abigail's. The El Rachero runs this church, I have heard of him. I send up a prayer of thanksgiving. I knock on the door, looking around me. What if Ramiro saw me leave? What if he followed me? He might think I swallowed them again. He would cut up a girl for much less. Qué un monstruo.

Just when I am about to go loca, the door opens. It is the priest. "Padre, I ask for sanctuary. Por favor." I force my voice to come strong and clear.

He frowns, looks at behind me. "Were you followed, senorita?"

"No." I do not add I am not sure, he might turn me away.

"Come in." He smiles at me now, and opens the door wide enough to let me in, and I let a sigh of relief come once the door closes. "I am Father Peralta. What is your name?"

"Ana." His voice is kind, so are his eyes, but I steel myself against trusting too much. I have learned that the wolf can wear sheep's clothing. He does help girls like me...but nothing comes free. All the same, over a bowl of soup, he coaxes my story from me, bit by bit. Finally, I have come to the end. "He has my passport, and will not give me my money."

"You still have the cookies?" Father Peralta questions, and I feel uneasy. He has been kind, but I have seen what men would do for what I have, or for the money it can bring. Look what I have already done for the thousand dollars.

"I hid them." I promise myself that when I can, I will do just that.

"Bueno. I am leaving now, but I will be back in a few hours. Don't worry, I'll lock the door behind me when I go. When I come back, we will figure out what to do. For now, come with me." He leads me to a cell. There is a latina already there. She is smoking a cigarette, her face slightly ashen. She has blonde streaks in her hair, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looks familiar. "This is Ceci, Ceci, this is Ana. She too has asked for sanctuary." He points to a bed. "You can sleep there. Ceci will show you the ropes." Then he left us both alone.

Me and Ceci talk for a while. She does show me the ropes, and then we settle down in the cell. We both find out we have seen each other before, but only from a distance. She was one of Ramiro's girls too, but her stomach can hold nothing no more. She shows me the scar on her arm, and my stomach rolls thinking that Ramiro would do worse to me if I did not have the cookies. Ceci is nice enough, and I feel I can trust her, since we are alike in many ways.

Still, when I go into the chapel to hide the cookies, I lie, and say I am going to the bathroom. I look around, and it occurs to me that the sleeve of the Virgin Mary will hide the cookies. I look up at her. "Perdóneme, la dama," I murmur, hoping my apology reaches her ears. I hurry back to Ceci, before she starts to get suspicious. She is smoking another cigarette.

"After the first run, I bought my parents a car." I still remember the joy on their faces, how proud my father was as he ran his hands over the leather seats, as though he were caressing a child's cheek. My mother bragged for months to her friends. Sophie was not so blindly happy. "Sophia wanted to know where I got the money."

"Did you tell her?" The understanding in Ceci's face makes it easier to talk.

"No, she looks up to me." I lied, the first lie I ever told her. It cost me a tiny corner of my soul. Still, I had to protect her.

Ceci notices me looking at my magazine picture. I showed it to her before. "It pays good...being a secretary?"

I nod in answer to the question, trying not to have my dreams burst out of me at once. "If I could get a job like that, I could put her in school." Then she can get a nice job, get rich, and la princesa can take care of me! "I bet you can get a job." I want to encourage her, but honestly, in the half hour or so I have known Ceci, I can not imagine her behind a desk.

"I don't want to go back there. Besides," she adds, sitting down on the bed beside me, "I'm going to Miami, with my boyfriend."

"What are you waiting for?" I don't plan on waiting a minute more than I have to for my dreams.

"He's caught up, too, you know? He's trying to get out, like us."

"Oh, yeah?" She's shaking, and her eyes look glassy. "Are you okay?"

"I quit using when I got here. Father Peralta's rules," she explains. I will not judge her. Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones. I have never touched drugs, but I have brought drugs to this country that others have used. I watch as she lies down.

"Ceci, digame, what's Miami like?" I cannot keep the enthusiasm from my voice. Tell me, hermana, so I can dream of it later, I urge her silently.

A look of pleasure washes over her face, her voice dreamy. "Mm. Nightclubs...music...sun...Sun all the time." I picture Ceci, healthy, dancing to a hot, fast beat, her hips swaying, her hands held up to the sun. This is how I will see in her my mind when we part. "My God, Ana. How did you get away from Ramiro tonight?"

The question reminds me that this is not the time to daydream. "I ran. Left a new lady there. She was sick."

"If a pellet opened, there's nothing you can do; she's going to do die if you're there or not." Ceci's words are sensible, but they make me feel worse. That's because that thought was mine earlier tonight, and now that I hear it out loud, it is a cold one.

"But maybe I can get her out. Get her to a doctor." If it's not too late already.

"He would never let you. Besides, you can't go back." The thought of going back, even for my passport, even for the money, even for Delia makes me feel half sick. I look at my magazine. Ramiro will not take my family, my dreams from me. Never!

Folding my picture, I put it back, turning to Ceci. "I stole two cookies."

"What!" This brings her to a sitting position. "Let me see."

Glass house or not, it would be stupid to show cookies to someone who uses. I do not want to hurt her feelings, though. "I hid them."

"Ramiro's gonna kill you, Ana!"

"No," I insist. I will not let him. "He's going to give me my passport for them."

I hear Father Peralta come back in an hour later, and tell Ceci good night. After talking some, the padre agrees to my plan. He drives me back to the hotel. He promises he will be right outside if I need him, and ducks into the shadows when Ramiro opens the door.

No matter where I look in the room, I can't see Delia. "Where's Delia?" I demand, praying I am wrong.

"Done," he answers without feeling. "Where the cookies?" He locks the door.

As though I am that stupid. "I didn't bring them." I decide to come to the point fast. "I want my passport and a thousand dollars, then you'll get them."

"Why you think you can call the shots?" I back up as he comes forward, but force my voice to be hard, my expression too. I am not some piece of...of...of property!

"Because I got something you want, hidden somewhere you'll never find," I remind him.

"Not how it works." He is so mad, and as long as he doesn't have his cookies, he can't do anything about it. If he didn't make my skin crawl, I might enjoy this.

"We do the deal, and I go."

The door opens behind me, the one to the bathroom. There is a man, one I've never seen, his bare chest covered in blood, a knife and a bag of pellets in his hands. "Ramiro. I got them all. Minus the busted one."

I look past this man, and I see Delia in the bathroom. I can see, even from here, she is dead. Even so, I walk towards her. "Oh God...Delia!"

"Stop walking," the man in blood says, "unless you want to be next." There is madness in his eyes, as though he is not all there. Maybe on something, my mind tells me. I see the knife, and I know he would use it on me to make me tell. Santa Maria...

"Padre!" I scream. Even for my passport, no más. He does not fail me. He pounds at the door until Ramiro opens it, even though the chain is still in place.

"Open it," he orders. Gracias, Padre. Oh, Gracias. I hold my breath, afraid Ramiro will not, or worse, hurt him too. But he does open the door, and nothing more bad happens. "She's coming with me," he tells Ramiro. You don't have to tell me twice. I run past Ramiro, to safety.

On the way back to the church, I can not stop crying. I keep seeing Delia in my head, dead, in the bathtub. When I left, I could have taken her with me, I could have dropped her off at a hospital. But I was too worried about myself. Selfish...now she's dead.

When we come back, I light candles for her. It is precious little. I turn to him, ready to confess, in a sense. "I told Delia she would be okay."

He answers my sin with compassion. "It wasn't your fault."

"But I knew she was dying and I lied." And I left her.

He cups my face in his hands, trying to comfort me. "It wasn't a lie. It wasn't a lie, it was hope." In that moment, I saw demons in his eyes. Does even a priest have sins that torment him? It is a comfort, perhaps, to know that even men of God fall from grace. He let's me go, and paces a little, linking his hands behind his head. "Ana, you have to leave."

To hit me would have been better. "But you said I was safe here."

"Yes, for tonight. But he will come here tomorrow, looking for you." Who would he hurt to find me?

Yet..."He still has my passport."

"Forget that."

"Forget going home?" Forget my mother, father...Sophia? The idea of doing that is so painful, it's too much. No, I will not crumble. There has to be a way. Alvaro would be here, even if he brings only friendship. "Then I will find work here, send Sophia money to come here." She has always wanted to come here.

"Ramiro will find you here." I can find a way around that. Alvaro will help me. He will make the bust soon, and it will all be okay.

"I have the pellets. Maybe I can get money for them..." Buy myself a new passport, a new last name.

He does not want to hear about that. "I can't help you with that."

"They're worth a lot." I should know.

"Forget the drugs, forget the money. It is time for you to save yourself." Then he drops to his knees, unlocks a drawer, and pulls out something.

"Que estas haciendo?" I ask.

"Wait, wait," he tells me. He pushes a wad of crumbled money into my hand. "Okay. Now we have to find you a place to stay."

I take out the paper with Alvaro's number. "There is someone I can call." He will help me, and I will have hope.